


you close your eyes instead

by amandaskankovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:54:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1465072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaskankovich/pseuds/amandaskankovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things you want to tell him so badly. You’re making a list inside your head. You’ve always been good at making lists. Industrious and organized as you are.<br/>(Were?)<br/>(Whatever.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you close your eyes instead

**Author's Note:**

> depression trigger warning

There are things you want to tell him so badly. You’re making a list inside your head. You’ve always been good at making lists. Industrious and organized as you are.  
(Were?)  
(Whatever.)  
You should tell him that, add that. Recently you’d gotten so much better at making them.   
You have notebooks full front and back.  
I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do that, but not before I do this and oh wait I have to do that.  
You had thoughts.  
You had ideas.  
Once upon a time you think you did.  
But now when you want to lift your hand and grab a pen it’s like someone took all the blood out of your arm when you were sleeping.  
And then you decide whatever you were thinking wasn’t worth writing down anyway.  
And that same person who took your blood is now sitting on your chest and whispering in your ear, “Why the fuck aren’t you moving? Piece of shit, piece of shit, piece of shit!”  
You want to tell him this.   
You try to add it to the list. The other list. The one not on paper but you’re keeping inside your head.  
You try and write it on the walls inside there but even it’s not a real wall it’s still so big.  
And you’re so small.  
It’s much too much and you could just sleep instead.  
*  
There’s a straw in your mouth.  
"Just take a sip. Please?"  
You want to tell him about this book you read once. About this boy who survived a plane crash.  
What comes out instead is, “Leave me alone.”  
*  
If you could tell him about the book. If you could make your mouth make words anymore if the whole idea of actually really saying anything didn’t just make you feel so weak.  
(Weaker.)  
(Useless.)  
If you could make the words come out you’d tell him how the boy had landed you couldn’t remember where anymore.  
In the mountains?  
In the woods?  
But he had been alone.  
Except he’d had this hatchet and that had made all the difference.  
The boy thought about his parents.  
But he’d also had this friend.  
*  
"Just have a little. I brought it from work. It’s good."  
You look into her eyes.  
You can still see the bruises under all that make up.  
It takes every ounce of concentration but you do it.  
You open your mouth.  
For her.  
(It doesn’t really taste like anything.)  
(Salt maybe.)  
*  
He wanted to fuck his friend?  
I mean that’s the point, right?  
We all have best friends.  
But if you’re in the middle of the woods losing your mind with lonliness what face are you going to see but the person you want the most?  
Sure it could be platonic but…you have to at least consider the other angle right?  
You can feel him looking at you.  
He’s laying right beside you.  
You could turn around and look at him and tell him all about this.  
But you close your eyes instead.  
Because you’re useless.  
*  
"You want to listen to some music?" He says.  
You manage a, “No.”  
He says, “Well I can’t just lay in bed all fucking day staring at you.”  
He gets up and you think: Okay. Finally. He’s leaving.  
You ruined it.  
You happy now?  
But then there’s his weight back on the bed and you hear his voice and…  
"So we’ve only got, like, 4 books in this house and this is the only one that sounds sort of interesting. Somebody stole it from the library like, 8 years ago."  
And then he starts to read.  
"Brian Robeson stared out the window of the small plane at the endless green northern wilderness below."   
And you’re going to start crying your going to.  
You’re going to start crying and fuck it all up again.  
You can’t make the words come out right. You can’t explain.  
You can’t.  
"Ian?"  
And then he’s wrapping his arms around you waist.  
He’s pulling you close to him.  
And he’s telling you over and over, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”  
And it’s almost louder than the voice.  
It really almost is.

The boy’s name was Brian.

He made it in the end.

You want to tell him this.

But you guess he already knows.


End file.
